


whelks

by iphigenias



Series: season 7 fix-it fics [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adam Lives, Canon-Typical Violence, Keith and Acxa are Siblings, Lance has anxiety, Lance has depression, M/M, Season 7 AU, Slow Burn, this is actually a happy fic I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 13:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15708153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iphigenias/pseuds/iphigenias
Summary: “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Keith says.You’d help me sleep at night, Lance doesn’t say, but he thinks it. Loudly. He thinks Keith might even hear it because he says, “I should go,” and then, “Lance?”“Yeah?”“You’re not annoying.”Lance smiles. “Okay.”“I’m glad you’re my navigator.”“Okay.”“Okay.”*Or, the season 7 rewrite in which Lance gets the treatment he deserves, among other improvements.





	whelks

**Author's Note:**

> happy one week anniversary of voltron killing all us gays! i legitimately thought this fic wouldn't be much longer than 3k but then lance would not stop talking and here we are
> 
> this is in the same au universe as my adashi fix-it fic 'dogfish' - that fic deals with certain plot changes not addressed here, and vice versa. it would probably be best if u read that one too but ya know, i'm not ur mum. do what u want i guess. for a full list of everything i've changed, head down to the end notes
> 
> some warnings for lance dealing with a lot of heavy stuff in his head. also for depictions of canon-typical violence and permanent injury to a character at the end of the fic (check end notes for details)
> 
> title and bookend quotes are from mary oliver's poem 'whelks' which is quite seriously the most lance poem i have ever read in my life

*

 _All my life_  
_I have been restless—_  
_I have felt there is something_  
_more wonderful than gloss—_  
_than wholeness—_  
_than staying at home._  
_I have not been sure what it is._

*

Lance knows he shouldn’t, but he misses Blue.

He misses her gentleness, her great hulking strength; how she would light up beneath his touch; how she lowered her shield, that very first time, for him and him alone. It had felt as if, for the first time in his life, someone had chosen him first—he wasn’t a last minute fighter class replacement after their best student dropped out; he wasn’t the middle child in a family of five, never the bravest, never the smartest, never the kindest, never the most doted upon. But Blue had chosen _him_ —had opened up to him—had trusted him, had let him lead the way across the universe—and he misses her. Has been missing her ever since he first stepped foot inside Red, who is fierce, and fiercely loyal—but who isn’t, and never will be, Blue.

Lance wonders if it’s his fate for everyone he loves to leave him.

Somewhere deep down, in his heart of hearts, Lance always thought he would go back to Blue. That she would choose him, in the end, deep down in the thick of things, right at the end of the spiral of time like the curve of a true whelk’s shell—that Keith would return to Red, too, to the lion that always had a hard time trusting and yet trusted Keith implicitly, wholly, like Lance has let himself trust Keith too—that maybe Shiro would return to pilot Black, or Allura would rise to the occasion, or _something_ , because flying Red is exhilarating and being Keith’s right hand feels so _right_ but being with Blue was something else entirely—it was like being _home_.

Lance wonders if this is how whelks feel when their shells are stripped away by the surf—fleeting, empty, longing for that piece of themselves they had lost to the will of the tides.

He tries not to let himself dwell on it. He likes the feel of the red bayard in his hands, after all. And he likes being Keith’s right-hand man. Likes being trusted, without even needing to be asked, to do what is needed for the team to survive. And he likes the way Keith smiles at him when he reminds him of that fact—when he takes out a Galra officer with a single shot from his sniper rifle, when he rams Red into another lion’s backside to move them out of range of enemy fire quicker than they could have done it themselves. It makes Keith smile at him in that certain way—he wouldn’t call it _soft_ , because the word sits wrong in his mind. But its edges are blunted, and the curve of his lips is small, and secret—and maybe Lance wouldn’t even know it was a smile if he wasn’t already looking at Keith, waiting for one.

The point is—Lance misses Blue. But maybe not quite so much as before.

*

They’re escaping Ezor and Zethrid’s ship with the help of a concussed Coran, but Keith lingers behind. “Wait, where are you going?” Lance asks, still looking at Keith with wide eyes from when he had willed his bayard to materialise in his hand—it had been like something out of a movie, one of those old sci-fi ones Lance used to watch with his sister, who would laugh every time she spotted a physics mistake.

“Acxa saved our skin,” Keith replies, but there’s something off about his voice. “I’m not gonna leave her behind.”

“Keith, _no_ ,” Allura says, retrieved whip bayard in hand and scowl on her face. “It’s too risky. We need you here with us.”

“Lance will lead you guys out, but I need to do this.”

“Keith—”

“You don’t understand, I _have_ to find her.” Keith takes a deep breath and then lets it out all at once. “She’s… my sister.”

And, okay. There’s a lot to unpack in that.

“ _What_?” Allura asks, her voice hard and sharp as Balmeran crystal. She looks to Krolia, who has come to stand beside Keith. “How long have you known?”

“I told him in the quantum abyss,” Krolia says, voice even. “I didn’t know she was one of Lotor’s generals until Keith told me. I haven’t seen her in… a very long time.”

“And you’re only telling us _now_?”

“Look how you reacted when you found out I was Galra! It wasn’t like I was in a hurry to repeat that,” Keith argues. “And it looks like I was right.”

“Keith—” Allura begins, but Lance interrupts her.

“Go,” he says. He meets Keith’s shocked gaze and tries for a smile. “I got your back.”

Keith looks at him for a long moment then nods, once, and takes off down the hall. “Lance,” Allura says, but stops speaking when Shiro places his hand on her arm.

“Come on,” Lance says. “Let’s get to our lions.”

*

It’s tense when Acxa joins them. Allura maintains her cold and stony silence—and Lance doesn’t really blame her, given what happened with Lotor—and Romelle won’t stop glaring—Lance supposes he can’t really blame her for that either, given her experiences with Lotor too. Even Krolia seems uncomfortable, though as they sit side-by-side in the firelight—Keith on one side of his mother, Acxa on the other—Lance can definitely see the family resemblance. It’s a wonder none of them noticed before, though he supposes it’s hard to compare facial features of someone trying their hardest to kill you.

Acxa unceremoniously breaks the news of Voltron’s long disappearance, and it’s all Lance can do to stare at her in disbelief. That’s, what, three Earth years? Three more years of his family thinking he’s dead—three more years in which the Galra could have invaded Earth, or worse—three more years in which his family might not even have survived.

No. _No_. He can’t let himself think that. His hands feel clammy, muscles cramped. It feels like he’s going to throw up. _No_.

Lance stands abruptly from the group and walks out of the cave with quick, shaky steps, reaching the bitingly cold outside air and taking huge gulping breaths that bring tears to his eyes. He thinks of his family as he remembers them: Veronica, in her officer uniform, teasing him about his flight sim results until he walked away in a huff—they found the Blue Lion a day later, and Lance wonders what she thought of him disappearing like that. He wishes he could have left a note.

He thinks of his siblings back home: Elena, so close to graduating university then—she’ll be a proper teacher now, has been one for going on five years—Lance knows the kids must love her. Luis, still in middle school when Lance left for the Garrison. God, he’d be eighteen now—has he had his growth spurt? And Mari, the baby of the family—Lance wishes he’d held onto her just a little bit longer, that day he left home.

He thinks of his parents, though it hurts even more to do so. His papa, surfboard slung under his arm, tan line on his left wrist from his watch; his open, laughing, smile-wrinkled face, warm and teasing as he showed Lance how to balance on the waves. His mama, always working, her paint stained fingers pulling from the oven yet another cake she’d forgotten to take out on time, smoke billowing through their small kitchen, Lance laughing, his mama smiling and asking, “ _Alejandro, why didn’t you remind me?_ ” They cut as much of the burnt bits off as they could; in the end they were left with a chunk of golden crumbs no bigger than Lance’s small fist. “ _A feast!_ ” Mama exclaimed, and they stuffed their faces with every last crumb, even some of the burnt ones. “ _Maybe leave the cooking to me,_ novia _?_ ” his papa would say as he entered the kitchen and exaggeratedly waved away the already disappearing smoke. Mama would scowl, and Papa would laugh, and ruffle Lance’s hair with a promise that he’d help him bake next weekend.

Lance wraps his arms around his middle, shivering. He can feel the memories start to fade, curling up like the corners of an old photograph exposed to heat, and it scares him. What will he find when they get to Earth? Will anything be left of his old life?

He’s afraid to know the answer.

There’s the soft sound of shuffling footsteps and then the cover over the entrance to the cave is pushed aside. Keith steps outside, letting the fabric flap closed behind him. “Hey,” he says, looking at Lance from beneath his lashes in a way that makes Lance ache, and look away.

“Hey,” Lance says, sniffling a little. “Sorry for walking out like that. It was just… hard to hear.”

“It’s okay,” Keith says softly. “I mean, hot-headedness kind of comes with red paladin territory.” The joke is pretty bad but Lance laughs anyway. When he chances a glance at Keith, he sees that he’s smiling.

“I was just thinking of home,” Lance replies to Keith’s unasked question. “I never thought I’d be away this long. So much will have changed when we get back.”

“I’m sorry, that must be hard,” Keith says. Lance looks at him again; he’s looking back. “You must miss your family.”

Lance laughs hollowly. “That’s an understatement.” He looks at the ground. “I’m glad you found yours.”

“My mom’s cool,” Keith allows. “But Acxa is—”

“Terrifying?” Lance supplies, and glances at Keith as he laughs.

“She kind of is,” he says. “But she’s changed a lot. And I dunno, maybe in another universe where we grew up together—I guess I like to think we could’ve been friends.”

“Maybe in another universe none of this ever happened,” Lance says. “Maybe Shiro came back from Kerberos and we stayed at the Garrison and had normal lives. It seems so strange to think about.”

“Shiro would’ve died anyway,” Keith says, his voice sharp. “And the Garrison would’ve kicked me out either way. I don’t think a normal life was ever an option for me.”

“It could have been,” Lance says softly. “We could’ve been friends. I’d have convinced you to stay at the Garrison. You could’ve met my family.”

Keith smiles that small, secret smile. He looks at Lance. “They probably would’ve hated me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, they’d love you. I’d disown them if they didn’t.”

Keith laughs, and the sound is high and bright and entirely unsuited to the cold night air they’re both standing and shivering in, but somehow it feels perfect. “You would not,” he says, and Lance laughs too, quieter.

“Maybe not. But I’d try to win them over to your side.”

“Why?” Keith asks, and his voice is soft again, and Lance never thought he would use that word to describe Keith but here it is, plain as day, smooth as the inner shell of a whelk.

“Because you’re worth loving,” he says, and maybe that’s too raw and honest for whatever they are to each other, maybe Lance should’ve kept his mouth shut or laughed it off with a joke like he usually does—but he has piled up enough regrets in his life from things unsaid, and Keith deserves better than that.

Keith deserves the world and Lance would give it to him, if he could.

“Lance—” Keith begins, and his face is dazed and soft—there it is, that word again—and Lance’s heart is in his throat at the thought of what he might say—his hands are cold—they would be warmer if they were held—

The cave cover flaps open. “Oh, sorry,” Shiro says, and only he could make the words sound genuinely contrite. “I drew first watch. You two should go get some rest.”

“Thanks, Shiro,” Keith says, and disappears into the cave without another word. Lance stares after him for a moment, startling when Shiro says his name.

“He’ll figure it out,” Shiro says. Lance blinks at him. “Just give him time.”

Lance colours when he realises what Shiro means; mumbles a thank you and slips past him into the warmth of the cave, wondering how obvious he is, how obvious he has been for a long, long time.

*

Coran’s words turn over and over in Lance’s head as they fly through deep space. _The legends say that if you meet Bob and live to tell the tale, you’re destined for great things indeed_. Though startling to hear it phrased out loud that way, Lance supposes it’s something they’ve all known for a long while—maybe even from the day they stumbled upon Blue back on Earth. And he knows it’s almost certainly true, for most of them at least—Shiro and Allura, no question. Keith has always burned bright. Hunk and Pidge may not be as strong, but they’re some of the smartest people Lance has ever known—he’s sure they’ll leave their mark, as individuals as well as paladins of Voltron.

But every time Lance tries to imagine himself leaving some kind of legacy, all he hears is: “the dumb one.” When he thinks about how he might be remembered one day, all he hears is: “I just don’t want to be stuck here for an eternity with Lance.”

And it sucks, but it’s the truth—and deep down he’s always known that. He knows that’s why it hurt so much, losing Blue. Losing the only thing that ever chose him first, that ever recognised something inside of him that no-one else had seen—losing Blue made him realise that he wasn’t so special, after all. If the only thing that made him feel worth something could replace him so easily, then maybe he was always destined to be the fifth wheel. The seventh wheel. The one no-one wanted, and the one always left behind. The empty whelk shell, discarded and forgotten in the sand amongst so many shining gems of sea-smoothed glass and tortoiseshell cowries.

The dumb one.

A notification pings on his lion’s interface, pulling him from his thoughts. It’s a private communication request from Keith. Lance sighs and accepts, cutting his gaze away.

“Hey, man,” he says, trying not to sound so miserable but probably failing if the look on Keith’s face is anything to go by.

“Hey,” Keith says, frowning. “Listen, I wanted to talk about what happened.”

Lance waves his concern away. “It’s all good. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“But it’s _not_.” Keith’s voice cracks on the last word and Lance finally meets his eyes; they’re sad. “I just—that guy was an asshole, you know that right? And nothing he said was true.”

Lance presses his lips together and says nothing. Keith makes a frustrated sound.

“You’re not dumb, Lance. Okay? I know sometimes—maybe you get down on yourself or—I don’t know, but I can tell when you’re thinking it—and you’re thinking it _now_ —but it’s not true. It’s not true and you’re not dumb at all and I’m sorry if he made you feel like that.” Keith says these last words all in a rush and they stumble over one another, vying for the attention of Lance’s ears. Lance isn’t sure if it’s the red light inside his lion mucking up the video feed, but Keith looks like he’s blushing.

“Thanks, man,” he says after a moment, and though the sadness is still there, the weight in his chest feels just a little lighter. “I know I… get in my head sometimes. A lot. But you’re right—he _was_ an asshole.”

“But you still believe him, don’t you?” Keith presses. “You’re not dumb, Lance, and I’ll tell you that a hundred times until you know it’s true.”

Lance feels like crying, like screaming, like doing _something_ to release the ache inside of him. “Make that a thousand and then we’ll talk,” he says softly, looking down at his hands.

“Whatever you need,” Keith says back, just as quietly. “Hey, Lance?” He waits until Lance looks back up at him before speaking again. “You’re not dumb.”

“Okay,” Lance whispers.

“He was an asshole, and you’re not dumb.”

Lance closes his eyes. “Okay.”

Keith is silent for a little while, long enough that Lance opens his eyes again to look at him questioningly. He looks nervous. “And about… about that other thing,” he finally says. Lance smiles, small and warm and real.

“It’s okay, Keith. Really. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“Do you?”

Silence falls again. Keith sighs; out of the corner of his eye Lance sees him run a hand down his face. “Did _you_ mean it?” is what he finally asks, looking up at Lance, who is already looking back, who will always be looking back. “When you said I was the future?”

 _You’re my future_ , Lance wants to say, but this time he doesn’t give in to the impulse. “Yes,” he replies simply. “I meant it.”

There’s this look on Keith’s face when he says those words. It says: _if we were talking face-to-face instead of over video, I might do something stupid like kiss you._ There’s a possibility Lance is reading his own thoughts into the look, but he knows Keith, and he knows his face. Lance supposes his own is saying the same thing—Keith softens, and smiles.

“Hey, Lance?” he says, even though he’s looking right at him.

“Yeah?”

“You’re not dumb. And if there was anyone in the universe I had to spend eternity with…”

Lance smiles. Looks away. “Me too,” he says, and he doesn’t need to look to know Keith is still smiling back.

*

Keith is quieter when they leave Krolia behind. Not so much that the rest of the team notice—except maybe Shiro, who notices everything—but Lance does, and it unsettles him. He doesn’t know how Keith feels—leaving behind the mother you only just met, perhaps never to see her again—and the fact that Acxa decided to stay with Krolia too, effectively obliterating the already unstable sense of family Keith had been building around himself—Lance is no expert, but that must hurt.

But Keith says nothing. Does nothing. He’s only quiet—quieter.

Lance doesn’t blame him.

As they left the ravaged planet, Krolia had grabbed Lance’s sleeve from where he trailed behind the rest of the group. Held him back until they were out of earshot. “Look out for him,” she had said, her voice serious, her eyes even more so. Lance could see Keith so clearly in her; they share the same jawline, the same sharp curve of the brow. They share the same fire, too, though Krolia’s is muted, more controlled; Keith is an open flame.

Acxa watched the conversation like a hawk. Lance could see Keith in her, too—he’s still not sure if he likes the comparison. 

“I will,” Lance had promised, flexing his hand around his bayard. Krolia had looked at him for a long moment before letting him go; he hurried to catch up to the rest of the group before they noticed his absence.

That was three days ago. Lance has been looking out for Keith ever since, and what he sees worries him.

They’re not doing training drills anymore. Though it’s true Krolia ran them, Keith was always a firm advocate. But there’s nothing now. Keith says less over the comms, too. Only Shiro is in the lion with him—Lance often wonders what they say to each other, though he knows he shouldn’t intrude. He’s just glad Keith isn’t alone in there—Black is hulking, and forbidding, and though Lance had professed to wanting to pilot her, he’s secretly glad she wouldn’t let him. There is just something about her enormity, her power; the great, mechanical width of her shoulders, and the incredible strength held in her limbs. She suited Shiro with his strong, broad frame; his even stronger will of steel. And she suits Keith too, though in a different way—they both fight like they have nothing to lose.

In Black, Lance would be lost. In Black, Keith found himself.

Lance supposes that understanding this is what makes him Keith’s right hand. Though he likes to think that the way Keith looks at him sometimes when he thinks Lance isn’t looking back has something to do with it, too.

But the fact still stands: Keith is quiet. And though Lance doesn’t know what he’s going through, he knows a thing or two about sadness. He opens up a comm link; voice only, no video. Keith accepts in the space between two heartbeats.

“Hey,” he says. He sounds tired.

“Hey,” Lance replies. “Is Shiro around?”

“He’s getting some sleep,” Keith says, “Though I don’t know how much. He gets… dreams.”

“You mean nightmares?” Lance asks. He doesn’t have it in him to imagine what haunts Shiro in his sleep. Nothing good, that’s for sure. Probably something worse than bad. He thinks of Sendak, and the cruel curve of his mouth; of Haggar, and the sickening grasp of her clawed hand; of Zarkon, even, and the sounds Shiro had made when he’d been in his mind; the drawn-out, desperate groans of pain as he fought for control inside his own body; the violation, pure and vicious, of Zarkon forcing him out of Black into the cold and unforgiving darkness of space. And of all the things done to Shiro, all the hurts endured, before he ever crash-landed back down on Earth.

Nightmares is a kind way of putting it.

“Yeah,” Keith replies with a sigh. “He sounds okay now though. Usually they’re… loud.”

Lance wants to rip the flesh from Haggar’s bones.

“How are you doing?” he asks instead, and Keith sighs again.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to keep asking me that.”

“Well too bad, because I am,” Lance retorts. “So.”

“So?”

“Tell me something bad you’re feeling right now.”

“Lance…”

“ _Keith_.”

A sigh. Silence. He’s probably rolling his eyes. “I’m feeling… lost,” he finally says.

“Like… direction-wise?” Lance asks.

“No, like… _metaphorically_. Like… I don’t know what I’m doing. Where I’m leading us. _Why_ I’m the one who has to make the decisions. It’s—stupid. Sorry.”

“It’s not stupid,” Lance says softly. “I think everyone feels that way sometimes, and after everything that’s happened, it’s completely understandable. But that’s what I’m here for, man.”

Keith pauses. “You… are?”

“Yeah!” Lance sits upright in his chair, grinning into the comm. “I’m your navigator! You don’t always need to know exactly where we’re going—the important thing is that we get there. I can help with that.” 

“I…” Keith trails off, seemingly lost for words. “Thank you, Lance,” he finally says. “That… actually helps a lot.”

“What do you mean _actually_?” Lance says, and they both laugh. “So.”

“So?”

“Tell me something good you’re feeling right now.”

“What?”

“That’s how this works, man,” Lance says patiently. “You start with the bad, work it out as best you can, then finish with the good. Trust me—it helps.”

“I—okay,” Keith replies, and it sounds like he’s smiling. “I feel… calm, I guess.”

Lance laughs. “You guess?”

“I don’t—I don’t know how to describe it.” Keith pauses. “Your voice is just… comforting. Calming. I feel… at ease.” He pauses again. “Is that weird?”

“What? No!” Lance chews on the inside of his cheek. “It’s… nice. Most people just call me annoying.”

“Well, that too,” Keith says with a laugh.

“You’re horrible and I hate you,” Lance sniffs.

“Uh huh.”

“I’m serious!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Keith says. _You’d help me sleep at night_ , Lance doesn’t say, but he thinks it. Loudly. He thinks Keith might even hear it because he says, “I should go,” and then, “Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not annoying.”

Lance smiles. “Okay.”

“I’m glad you’re my navigator.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Lance laughs and rests his head against the back of his chair. His smile is so big he feels like he could peel it right off his face and hold it in his hands; tuck it right up beside his heart so he can feel this happiness forever. “Good night, Keith,” is what he says, and tries to make his smile audible in the words.

“Good night, Lance,” Keith smiles back, and Lance tucks that one beside his heart too, and leaves it there, beating bold and bright.

*

But then it’s all for nothing, because when they reach Earth—faster than expected, through a strange beam of electric white light which almost shuts down their lions but which Pidge manages to counteract and harness into a kind of wormhole jump—the Galra have gotten there first.

Lance’s dream of returning home to his old life—a distant hope at best, but never quite lost despite everything—is extinguished. An appropriate metaphor, because Lance himself feels burned out too—because what was everything they fought for, what was every planet they defended, every person they saved, what did that all mean if they were too late to save the planet and the people that mattered the most—the planet and the people that had never done anything worth attracting the Galra’s attention, until Lance woke the Blue Lion and brought them here.

Bile rises in his throat and he throws up in the trash can by his feet—a handy feature installed by Hunk in every lion—before he can help himself. The others don’t even notice, too preoccupied with their own crushing failure that to Lance feels like Atlas must have felt, when he held the world on his shoulders for so long it must have broken his spine—though the stories never say that—except that Atlas had a world to hold in the first place. If the Galra have been on Earth for long enough, all Lance might have left is the crushing weight of its emptiness.

He might just throw up again.

They leave the lions on one of Saturn’s moons, following Sam’s instructions. Everyone is quiet, but maybe Shiro most of all. Lance realises why: this is the closest he’s been to Kerberos since everything that happened there. All the expanses of space they’ve journeyed to in Voltron and yet here, now—Shiro’s gaze is distant, a thousand-yard stare. Lance moves closer to brush a hand against his elbow. “Hey,” he says, when Shiro startles and looks at him. He smiles. After a moment, Shiro smiles back, small and grateful.

Lance can feel Keith’s gaze on the both of them. He leaves Shiro and walks over to him. It’s the first time they’ve been side-by-side since the war-ravaged planet they left Krolia on.

“Thanks for doing that,” Keith says quietly. Lance glances back over to Shiro, who is smiling at something Allura is saying. He shrugs and looks back at Keith.

“It’s no big deal,” he says. Keith frowns.

“It is, though. Thank you.”

Lance looks down at his feet. Back up to meet Keith’s gaze. “You’re welcome,” he says, voice quiet. “I can’t believe we finally got home, and the Galra are here already.” He closes his eyes. “It feels like a nightmare.”

“I can pinch you, if you like,” Keith says, and Lance smiles for half a second. “We’re going to take it back from them. And we’re going to save everyone.”

Lance opens his eyes again. “Not everyone,” he says.

“But as many as we can.”

“We’ll try our best,” he replies, and Keith’s frown deepens.

“Are you—okay?” he asks hesitantly. Lance laughs, and it sounds hollow. Feels hollower.

“Not really,” he answers. “But that doesn’t really matter now.” He moves to leave—he doesn’t know why this was easier, talking to Keith over the comms. Standing before him now he feels as though his skin is being peeled off and pulled back, pinned to a cork board behind his head like a butterfly, microscope focused on the muscle and tissue exposed to the light. Keith grabs his wrist before he can go; loops his hand softly around it. Lance pauses. He wonders if Keith can feel his pulse beating through their armour.

“It matters to me,” Keith says. Lance looks at him. “You’re my navigator, Lance. I need you to show me the way.”

“So you need me happy and optimistic,” Lance says. His voice feels thin. “So I don’t get us lost. Got it.”

“I need you to tell me the truth,” Keith replies. “So I can find you again if you do.”

Lance looks at him and the rest of the world seems to fall away. Lance looks at him and sees everything he said to Bob back in that fever dream: he looks at him and sees the future.

Lance looks at Keith, and it is dizzying.

“I’m overwhelmed,” he says. “I feel sick. I don’t know if I’ll ever see my family again. I don’t know if I want to pilot Red anymore.” He pauses. “Is that enough?”

Keith shifts his hand so it’s no longer looped around Lance’s wrist; he moves it lower, turns it slightly, lines up their palms and slots his fingers against Lance’s, interlocking them like a promise. “If it’s enough for you then it’s enough for me,” he says. “Can we talk about this later? After we’ve saved the world.”

Lance cracks a smile at that, and it lasts more than half a second. “Always gotta be our fearless leader, huh?” He squeezes their joined hands, and imagines he can feel Keith’s heartbeat in the touch.

“I’m not fearless,” Keith says. “But you help me feel like I am.” He lets his hand fall from Lance’s; smiles at him, open and devastating in a way that shouldn’t be allowed. Lance watches as he turns and leaves; closes his fist to hold onto the feeling of Keith’s hand in his own—of they way they fit together, seamless, like the whelk and its perfectly-fitted shell.

*

The ride to the Garrison in their armoured trucks feels longer than the entire time the paladins spent in their lions headed to Earth, though in reality it’s less than an hour. Lance sits, tense and fidgeting, in the first truck with Keith, Keith’s wolf, Pidge, and Hunk. He looks out the window every now and again to check that the second vehicle holding Shiro, Allura, Romelle, and Coran is still following behind. About twenty minutes into the ride, Keith reaches over and places a hand on Lance’s bouncing knee. He doesn’t say anything, but the gesture is enough, and Lance is grateful for it.

After what feels like an eternity, the Garrison appears on the horizon like a mirage. Lance’s breath catches in his throat. It looks different than he remembers—the particle barrier is new, for one. And the emptiness is new too. Before, the base had been a hub of activity—cadets and officers coming and going on hoverbikes and in cars, all hours of the day—noise from the classrooms drifting out from the open windows, down to where the students and staff lucky enough to have the period off were standing outside in the sun. Lance can still see people moving about now, but even from this distance they seem quieter, more subdued. Nothing moves outside of the particle barrier except the dust being sent up by the wheels of the trucks they’re riding in.

The barrier opens just in time to let the trucks careen through. The cadet driving them—James, Lance remembers how Keith _hated_ him—brakes to a sudden, skidding stop on the grounds outside the entrance to the Garrison proper. There’s a crowd gathered outside. Lance can’t make anyone out, but clearly Pidge can, because she’s shoving open the door before the truck has fully stopped and launching herself into the arms of her parents who are waiting just outside. It’s a sweet image, and makes Lance’s heart squeeze in his chest. He harbours little hope that his own parents will be here—but as he steps down from the truck, breathes in that familiar dry desert air, a face catches his eye through the crowd. It belongs to a young woman, her hair cut short and flying around her jaw as she strong-arms her way through the throng of people to get to the front. Lance’s heart stops and then starts again, because the face belongs to—

“Veronica!” he calls out, almost tripping over his own feet at the haste of which he runs towards her. They collide, hard and painful, Veronica’s arms closing around Lance’s shoulders and holding onto him for dear life. He tucks his face into her hair, realising with a jolt that they’re the same height now—when he left she had a good three inches on him.

“Lance, oh my God,” she says into his ear, pulling back from the embrace to look Lance over. “I can’t believe you’re here—I can’t believe you’re _back_.” She reels him in for another hug; her shampoo is the same one Mama uses—used? His stomach flips painfully.

“Mama?” he asks when Veronica releases him again. “Elena?” She looks at him with sad eyes.

“We’ve been conducting rescue missions from here, but our reach is limited. I haven’t heard from them in months.” She grips Lance’s hands tight. “I’m sure they’re fine. They wouldn’t want us to worry.”

He squeezes her hands, blinking back tears as he forces himself to think of his family as they would want him to think of them: happy and safe and whole, and nothing for him worry about. If he chants that enough times in his head, he might almost make himself believe it.

Lance glances around at the rest of the crowd. Pidge is still with her family—she’s wrapped up in her mother’s arms with an earnestness that hurts to look at. Hunk is with the Alteans, his normally smiling face sad and cold—Lance supposes his family were beyond the reach of the rescue missions, too. Shiro is harder to find—Lance eventually spots him held tight in the arms of a man in Garrison officer’s uniform. Keith is standing nearby, soft smile on his face as he looks at the two of them, but as if he can sense Lance’s gaze, he turns to face him.

The smile stays on his face as he walks over.

“Veronica, this is Keith,” Lance announces, smiling as Veronica shoots him a bemused look before shaking Keith’s hand. “He’s our leader.” Keith looks at him, startled, his eyes wide. “Keith, this is my sister, Veronica.” Keith does another double take at that.

“Wait—you’re Lance’s sister?” he asks dubiously.

“You didn’t know?” Lance asks. “I talk about her all the time! You met her when we were in training!”

“I know, I—” Keith looks back and forth between the two of them. “I just didn’t make the connection between that Veronica and your Veronica, I guess.” He rests his gaze on her. “You were always so… serious.”

Veronica and Lance share a glance that lasts for half a second before the two of them dissolve into laughter. “Oh, wow,” Lance grins, clapping Keith on the shoulder. “Just wait til you get to know her, man. You _will_ regret it.”

“Shove off,” Veronica says, demonstrating her words with a firm push against Lance’s side. “It’s lovely to meet you Keith. My brother used to talk about you all the time.”

Lance blushes when Keith looks at him. “I did not!”

“It’s okay,” Keith says, grinning. “I used to complain about you to Shiro, too.” He looks over his shoulder at his brother, who has pulled apart from the uniformed man just far enough to lean their foreheads together and talk quietly. “He looks so happy,” Keith says softly.

“Is that his… boyfriend?” Lance ventures. Keith turns an incredulous stare on him.

“That’s Adam Wakim. His fiancé? They were together for like. Five years.”

Lance blinks. Looks at Shiro and— _Adam_ , as in their engineering T/A Adam?—and reassesses pretty much everything in his life. “Wow, okay.”

“You mean you didn’t know?” Keith says sarcastically, echoing Lance’s earlier words, to which Lance responds with an echo of his sister’s words and demonstrates them with a hefty shove. The movement makes Shiro finally tear his gaze away from his own homecoming to look at them. He raises a single, white eyebrow. “I should probably go talk to him,” Keith says, instantly contrite. “It was nice to meet you, Veronica.”

Lance watches him go like always. Seconds later Veronica pokes him in the cheek. “Hey, what the hell?”

“If you keep smiling that hard your face will freeze that way,” she says, her own eyebrows raised. “You are so obvious, _hermanito_.” When Lance colours her expression softens, and she slings an arm around his shoulders. “It’s all good. You know I’m a lesbian, right?”

“I… do now?”

Veronica laughs and ruffles his hair. “So, lemme guess—everyone knows it but him?”

“Everyone knows it, _including_ him,” Lance corrects. He catches Veronica’s eye and shakes his head. “It’s a long story. And it’s pretty complicated. But—I think we’re getting there.” He laughs and closes his eyes. “Slowly.” When he opens them, Veronica is looking at him strangely. “What?”

“It’s… nothing,” she says after a moment, then smiles. “You’ve just grown up, that’s all.”

“That’s generally what happens when time passes, V.”

“Shut up.” She shoves him again. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Lance says, looking over at Keith who is standing with Adam and Shiro, smiling and laughing at something Adam has said in a way that makes his whole face light up like the sun. “I do.”

*

Lance sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, trying not to think about his parents, about his family—somewhere out there, probably in the hands of the Galra, maybe even injured, maybe even—

There’s a knock at his door. He stands and opens it to find Keith and Hunk outside in full paladin armour. “Uh—what’s going on?” he asks.

“Hunk’s gonna look for his family,” Keith says, staring at Lance so fiercely he feels as though he might burn up. “I thought you’d wanna look for yours.”

Lance swallows, and thinks, _there’s no chance they’re nearby_. But he looks at Hunk and his shining, earnest eyes; looks at Keith and can’t say no. “Give me two ticks to change,” he tells them, and shuts the door.

When they head down to the transport deck, Veronica’s already there and waiting for them. “I promised I’d look out for you, _hermanito_ ,” she says, ruffling his hair. “And I owe it to myself to look for them, too.”

Something in Lance centres itself and settles. Maybe this is a hopeless mission—maybe Keith just asked him along out of pity—and maybe going will uncover truths they never wanted to find out. But Veronica’s presence at his side is like a cool and soothing balm spread over a burn and he knows that whatever happens, at least they’ll have each other. And that’s more than Lance has had in a long, long time.

They set out in one of the Garrison’s armoured trucks, Veronica driving. Lance activates his bayard into its blaster form and rests it against the open window. They drive for long enough that his hand starts to cramp, but he doesn’t let up from the position. Veronica finally pulls into a secluded area behind a collapsed library and puts the truck into park.

“The nearest camp is three blocks from here,” she says. Lance’s stomach turns over at the word _camp_ —he wonders, briefly, just how different humans are from the Galra after all. They used camps too, once—and not on people from another planet. He pushes the thought away before it makes him throw up, and follows the others from the truck.

They walk in double file, Keith and Lance bringing up the rear behind Hunk and Veronica. Keith reaches over and touches Lance’s wrist, gently, where it is exposed to the air between his glove and his armour. Lance looks over at him. In this pale, morning light his face looks like it’s been carved from ivory, marred only by the long scar across his cheek which Lance thinks, biased judgement taken into account, does absolutely nothing to diminish the effect of those eyes, of that mouth—whether quirked in a smile or pressed into one serious, brooding line, like it is now. “You okay?” Keith says quietly to him, and Lance rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Worry about yourself for once.”

“I can’t help it,” Keith replies, and, well. There’s nothing Lance can really say to that.

They continue on in silence, following Veronica as she directs them up a rise and into the cover of an abandoned office building. “Down there,” she whispers. Lance’s bayard morphs into its sniper rifle form, and he looks through the sight to the scene below.

It’s a tableau eerily similar to those in the dusty old war movies his professors made them watch in history class. Lance sees lines of hunch-backed, ragged civilians, corralled into cruel order by sentry bots and the occasional Galran officer decked out in full battle regalia. Hunk makes an anguished noise as he looks through his own binoculars; Lance follows his gaze and sees two people who look so much like him they can only be his parents, huddled together in terror. Lance scans the rest of the crowd; there’s no sign of his own parents, or any of his family.

It was a small hope anyway, he tells himself, letting his bayard deactivate and sitting back with a soft _thump_. The only reason they would have been here was if they were trying to make their way to the Garrison, and that was a trip far too long for little Mari to manage—Lance knows they’d never leave her behind.

It was a small hope, but it still hurts to feel it extinguished. Veronica reaches out for Lance’s hand who takes it, and holds it tight.

“Hunk,” Keith says, his voice low. “There’s nothing we can do. There’s too many of them.”

Hunk is unresponsive, still staring down at his parents.

“ _Hunk_ ,” Lance says, and his voice cracks on the word. “Hunk.” He finally looks up; meets Lance’s gaze with a dead-eyed stare. “They’re alive. That’s what matters. But we gotta go.”

“I can’t just leave them,” Hunk whispers. Lance reaches out with his free hand and places it over Hunk’s, which are shaking. After a moment, Keith’s hand rests on top of Lance’s; Veronica reaches over to rest hers on top of Keith’s.

“They’d want you to be strong,” she says softly. “They’d want you to keep fighting.”

“There’s no Voltron without you,” Keith says.

“Hunk.” He looks at Lance again from where his gaze had drifted back down to the camp. “You can save them. But we have to save Earth first.”

Hunk is silent for a long time, long enough that Lance starts to worry he’ll do something stupid. But finally he just says, “Okay,” in an uncharacteristically small voice, and lets them lift him to his feet and lead the way back to the truck, back to the Garrison—back home.  

*

Keith walks quietly alongside Lance after they’ve deposited Hunk in his room. “You know, back there it sounded a lot like you believe we _can_ save Earth,” he says.

“I never said we wouldn’t,” Lance replies evenly.

“Not in so many words,” Keith says. Lance sighs.

“I thought we were going to have this conversation _after_ we saved the world.”

Keith shrugs. “Guess I’m impatient.” He follows Lance into his room. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Lance flops down onto the bed and waves his concern away. “No, no, it’s fine.” He makes room for Keith to sit beside him; he does so, tentatively, like he’s afraid he might break something.

“Tell me something bad you’re feeling right now,” Keith says. Lance huffs out a laugh.

“Using my own tactics against me, huh? Touché.”

“They worked for me,” Keith says, and that shuts Lance right up. He sighs. Looks at the ugly concrete wall opposite. 

“I’m feeling… overwhelmed, I guess,” he begins. “Like—like there’s so much I have to do, so much that’s depending on me to do it _right_ —it feels like I’m suffocating. And I can’t push the pillow or—or whatever it is off my face to let the air in.”

Keith is quiet for a few moments. Lance feels like curling up into a ball and crying, or running out of the room and never coming back. He feels open, raw, like an exposed nerve—vulnerable in a way he hates.

“Is there anything that helps you to breathe?” Keith asks.

Lance considers this. “My family. I used to—I’m not—this isn’t a new feeling.” He closes his eyes and rests his head back against the wall so he doesn’t have to look at Keith. “I get like this, sometimes. I always have. Doctor prescribed me anxiety meds but I left them at the Garrison when we went to help Shiro.”

“You couldn’t have told us?” Keith asks softly. “I’m sure Pidge would’ve found a way to help.”

“It’s not exactly easy to talk about,” Lance replies. “And we all had our problems.” He can feel the weight of Keith’s gaze on his face. “It got easier. Blue helped.”

“But you don’t pilot Blue anymore,” Keith says slowly.

“Yeah.” Lance sighs. “It’s gotten worse, lately. But being here is good—Veronica knows, and she helps, more than she realises. Just being with her is sometimes enough.”

“But other times?” Keith presses, and Lance opens his eyes to meet his gaze. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Lance looks at him. He knows that this is A Moment—can feel it in the way his skin buzzes, the way his lips tingle and his heart speeds up in his chest. And he knows that he can ignore it—he can look away and lie to Keith, ask him to leave and not come back, can stand up himself and walk away from whatever it is that’s about to happen because he knows that when it does, there’ll be no turning back. Lance knows this, and it frightens him—but he’s done being afraid.

He takes a deep breath, and plunges.

“You already do,” he says. Keith’s gaze is magnetic and he can’t look away. “You help me breathe. You always have.”

Keith’s mouth falls open slightly, but he doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t move. Slowly, so they both have time to reconsider, Lance pushes himself upright on the bed. Leans forward, leans closer, leans in to the curve of Keith’s body; turns his own body so they face each other like parentheses.

“How do you do that?” Keith whispers. “How are you still the brave one, after everything?”

Lance reaches across the chasm between them; rests his hand on Keith’s shoulder and, after a moment, slides it around so it curves against his neck. After another moment, Keith leans into the touch. “I’m brave because I have you,” Lance says simply. He lets his fingers scratch lightly at the hair that curls around Keith’s neck. “I’m brave because it’s you.”

Keith’s eyes fall closed for a second. His eyelids are shadowed and look bruised, like a peach. He needs more sleep.

He opens them again. Looks at Lance, who looks right back.

“Tell me something good you’re feeling right now,” Keith says, quiet, quieter even than a whisper. The smile unfurls across Lance’s face like sails in a sea breeze.

“Why don’t you tell me?” he replies, and before he can second-guess himself he’s leaning all the way in across that chasm; and maybe he’s pulling Keith in towards him or maybe Keith is leaning in too, of his own volition, eyes falling closed again the split second before Lance’s do, so that when their lips do meet, finally, achingly, it feels like a porch light turning on in the darkness, like a new star exploding into existence years ago and light years away, whose brightness hasn’t faded and won’t for a long time, not even until centuries after the star itself has gone out.

They pull apart. Lance’s eyes flutter open; Keith is already looking at him. “Guess that was a long time coming, huh,” Lance says, just for something to say.

“Good things take time,” Keith replies, leaning back in and kissing Lance again before he can do something stupid, like laugh at Keith for being cheesy, or groan—or say something even cheesier, like, “ _I love you._ ”

And besides—if good things take time, then Lance has all the time in the world to embarrass himself. For now, he’s just content to hold Keith, and kiss Keith—and breathe all the easier for it.

*

It doesn’t take long for the others to notice, but it’s not like Lance and Keith try to hide it. Allura’s gaze softens when it rests on the two of them; Pidge just rolls her eyes. Hunk is still sad, and so is the smile he gives them—but the very fact that he _did_ smile, despite everything, is more than enough.

Shiro pulls Lance aside that afternoon. “Thank you,” he says.

“For what?”

“For making him happy.” They both look over at Keith who is standing with Iverson, nodding seriously at whatever he’s saying but somehow still smiling, the same smile Lance hasn’t been able to get rid of all day.

“I would do anything for him,” he finds himself saying, the words almost uncomfortably honest. Shiro places a hand on his shoulder.

“I know,” he says, voice serious but soft at the same time. “I’m pretty sure he feels the same.” Lance blushes at that, and Shiro gives him one last pat on the shoulder before moving off, probably to go find Adam. Lance wanders over to Keith; stands close enough to him that he doesn’t have to reach his arm forward at all to link their fingers together. Iverson glances at their joined hands but says nothing of it, just continues running Keith through his plan for their next mission. Lance listens idly, more focused on the way Keith’s thumb is gently brushing against the inside of his palm, making him shiver.

“Uh huh,” Keith is saying. “Okay. I’ll talk about this to the rest of the team and get back to you.” Iverson nods and leaves, and Keith turns on the spot to face Lance. “You’re very distracting, you know that?”

“I was just standing here!” Lance protests.

“Exactly,” Keith replies, still smiling as he leans forward and presses a firm but gentle kiss against the corner of Lance’s mouth. “Help me get the others? We have work to do.”

Lance kisses him back, firmer, less gentle. “Yes sir,” he murmurs against Keith’s mouth, who scowls and pushes him away. Lance laughs; he can’t remember the last time he felt this _light_ —this _carefree_. And maybe it’s the wrong time and place to be feeling like this—they are in the middle of a war, after all—but Lance can’t help himself, and more to the point, he doesn’t want to.

“I’ll get Pidge and Hunk,” he tells Keith, disentangling their hands and stepping backwards out of his orbit. “I’m pretty sure Allura’s with Sendak’s memories. And _you_ can go fetch Shiro from wherever he is with Adam—I’d prefer not to be scarred this early in life.”

“I thought I was the one giving orders around here,” Keith says. Lance just shrugs and grins.

“Guess you’re just too slow for me,” he says, laughing and dashing out of the room before Keith can reply.

*

The next few days are a blur of activity. They run a few reconnaissance missions with the MFE cadets Sam has been raving about. Lance quite likes them all, except James.

Shiro gets outfitted with a new arm, too. Lance holds Keith’s hand as they watch the procedure through the viewing window; almost gets his hand crushed in Keith’s grip when Shiro rejects the implant, until Allura runs into the room and fixes it.

As soon as the Zyforge cannons are discovered, there’s no time to think. The plan they develop is simple: get to the bases, call their lions to Earth, and take the weapons out before they can launch.

The plan is simple, but it makes Lance’s stomach clench. The thing is, he doesn’t know if he _can_ call Red to him like that— _does_ know that deep down in his heart of hearts he’s still holding onto Blue, might never be able to let go of her, and Red doesn’t do well with a paladin whose loyalties are divided.

He doesn’t voice these concerns, though Keith is looking at him so intensely he’s almost certain he can read Lance’s mind. “Hey,” he says, pulling him aside just before they’re due to depart. Lance is the only one going overland; he’s glad Veronica will be with him. “Be careful out there.”

“You too,” Lance replies, his heart beating painfully in his chest.

Keith’s face does something complicated, like a smile and a frown all at once. “Lance, I wanted to tell you—”

“Hey,” Lance interrupts. “Don’t give me that now. Wait til after we save the world, okay?”

Keith swallows heavily; Lance traces the movement of his Adam’s apple. “I’ll hold you to that,” he finally says, closing his eyes as Lance leans in right before their lips connect. “Stay safe,” he murmurs against Lance’s mouth, who smiles.

“I’ll be fine. Worry about yourself, for once.” He pulls back and slides on his helmet all in one motion. Keith does the same; the ends of his mullet peek out from the gap between his helmet and armour. “See you on the other side.”

The ride to the first base with Veronica is bumpy and unpleasant. She says nothing about his kiss with Keith in the hangar, which indicates to Lance just how nervous she really is.

“Everyone concentrate on your lions!” Keith yells through the comm, and Lance lets his eyes slide closed. Takes a deep, calming breath. Settles his shoulders, and reaches out to Red.

He can’t feel her.

Lance scrunches his eyebrows together as the others sound off over the comm. All their lions have answered their calls—all except Lance’s.

“Lance?” Keith asks, his voice filled with static over the connection. “Lance, do you copy?”

Before Lance can answer, something hits the truck with such force he feels it go flying. He opens his eyes in a panic, seeing the desert and the sky spin around and around enough times to make him dizzy, to make him sick. He hits the ground painfully, sure that he feels something crack—though maybe it’s just the thud of the truck smashing to the sand, metres away from where Lance is lying. He groans. There’s a ringing in his ears and when he puts his hands against his helmet over them, they come away sticky with blood.

“—ance? Lance?” Shiro and Keith’s voices mingle over the comm but Lance’s voice won’t respond properly to answer. He coughs up blood and spits it on the ground where it glistens under the sun, harsh and brownish red. What was it that had hit them? Lance hadn’t seen it with his eyes closed—maybe Veronica knows— _Veronica._

Lance stumbles to his feet in a panic. “Veronica!” he yells, his voice hoarse. He spots her slumped in the sand on the other side of the truck debris; runs, limping, over to her, turns her on her back and places a shaking hand against her neck to check for a pulse. It’s there, but only faint. She flutters her eyes open and squints at Lance; her glasses must have been lost in the crash.  

The desert sand flares around them both as Galra fire takes aim at their position. Lance activates his shield, holding it over Veronica as best he can, not caring if he gets hit himself. He scrunches his eyes shut and yells out for Red in desperation.

Nothing.

A concentrated blast reverberates off Lance’s shield and sends him flying backwards in the sand. His shield deactivates automatically; there’s no time to reach for his bayard. Everything goes quiet around him, and Lance closes his eyes. Breathes in—

He sees Veronica, her smile bright and proud the day he got accepted into the Garrison. He sees his other siblings, spread out along the sand at sunset, hands full of whelk shells and strangely shaped driftwood, toes digging into the wet sand as the low tide washed in and out over their bare feet. He sees his parents, kissing in the garden when they thought they were alone; waving Lance goodbye from the distant airport lounge as the plane started taxiing away on the tarmac.

He sees the Garrison—hears again the first words he ever said to Hunk—bumps his fist with Pidge after a rare successful flight sim—watches the news of the Kerberos mission with wide eyes—spots Keith from the roof with Pidge’s binoculars— _I’d know that mullet anywhere._

He sees Blue’s shield fall away—feels her light up beneath his touch—the way she seemed to read his mind before he even knew what he wanted to tell her.

He sees Allura—Coran—Shiro laughing with food goo all over his face—Pidge’s glasses reflecting the glow of the computer screen—Hunk cooking, Keith scowling—Keith smiling, and laughing— _we had a bonding moment! I cradled you in my arms!_

Lance sees Haggar, and Zarkon—sees Allura glow with the magic of her ancestors—sees Blue’s shield up again, imposing and impenetrable, never to let him in again—hears Red roar for him across the castle—Keith’s strained voice over the comms, Keith rolling his eyes, and grinning, and telling Lance to _leave the math to Pidge._

Lance sees Keith as he was the day he came back from the quantum void—older, taller, hair longer but just as messy, eyes finding Lance’s like always— _you’re my navigator_ — _because you’re worth loving—I’m not fearless but you help me feel like I am—_

Lance sees all this in the space of a second. It’s there, crowding his brain, drowning out everything else around him—and then it’s gone, and he’s left with silence. He breathes out. Thinks, _Veronica, I’m so sorry._ Thinks, _maybe we should’ve had that conversation, Keith_.

Thinks, _Blue—I love you._ Thinks, _Blue—take care of Allura_.

Thinks, _Keith, Blue—goodbye._

He feels calm.

But then the ground reverberates with the shock of something bigger than a Galra jet. Lance opens his eyes and sees red—sees Red. He grins.

“Lance here,” he patches through over the comms once he’s gotten Veronica safely inside the lion. “I copy.”

*

Someone must have tipped the Galra off, because the Zyforge cannons launch and there’s nothing they can do to stop them. Their lions get caught in the concentrated beam, thankfully _after_ Lance has deposited Veronica back at the Garrison, and it’s a pain worse than anything Lance has ever felt, worse than anything he ever thought was even possible. It makes him black out.

When he wakes he’s in a Galran cell. “Keith!” he calls out desperately, unable to see anything through the tiny grate in his door.

“I’m here,” Keith calls back, voice tight with pain. “Lance, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replies, wincing as he feels along his ribcage for anything broken. “Just bruised, I think. And my ears are still ringing from the truck crash.”

The others sound off too, all sounding worse for wear. Sanda, the Garrison admiral who sold them out, is in the cell next to theirs. “I’m so sorry,” she says, sounding close to tears. “I only wanted to save Earth.”

“We all want to save Earth,” Lance bites back, feeling the anger seethe under his skin. All that planning, all that effort put into the last mission, and for what? For them to be betrayed by the very officer whose orders they thought they were following.

“Guys, this isn’t helping,” Hunk interrupts. “We should try calling the lions to us. It worked back on Earth—maybe they can break us out of here.”

“We can’t let the Atlas fight Sendak on their own,” Keith agrees. “We’re all capable of more than we know. I say we give it a shot.”

Lance closes his eyes, and tries not to think about the last time he attempted to call Red. But unlike then, as soon as he sets his mind to the task, he feels her reach out with her consciousness and grasp his own—opens his eyes with a gasp and knows that on the other side of the ship, Red’s eyes are lit up too.

There’s no time to get the lions to break them out of the cells. Lance shuts his eyes again and wills himself to see through Red’s vision; he follows Keith and the others as their lions burst from the hangar and join the fight below.

“Paladins! Welcome to the fight!” Shiro exclaims them from the Atlas, which is sustaining some heavy fire. “Let’s take out Sendak’s cruiser.”

“Wait!” Pidge yells. “We’re still on that ship! Well—our bodies are?”

“Amazing,” Shiro breathes, and Lance can almost see how his eyes must be lit up in wonder. “We got ourselves some breathing room. We’ll give you cover while you escape—and then you _have_ to destroy those cannons or at the very least alter their course, or Earth is history.”

“Yes sir,” Keith responds. “Lions, on me!”

They help in the battle as much they can while only telepathically linked to their lions. Though concentrating on the fight, Lance hears Sanda on the ship call for the guards’ attention, and then the sounds of blasters being fired at one another. “To the ship!” Keith yells, and rams Black straight into the hull where the cells are located. Lance scrambles to his feet and shoves open the damaged cell door with his shoulder. Keith is already outside his own cell, and Lance runs to him, throwing his arms around his shoulders and holding him tight.

“We should’ve had that conversation,” he says, voice muffled.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” Keith threatens as he pulls back from the embrace.

“Don’t _you_ die on _me_ ,” Lance replies, wiping away the sudden tears that have sprung to his eyes.

“How about we win this battle and none of us die?” Hunk interrupts. Keith grins.

“Sounds good to me. Everyone, get to your lions!”

“Welcome back!” Shiro exclaims as they fly out to re-join the battle.

“Couldn’t ask for anywhere better to be,” Keith replies. “We’re going after those plates to deflect the cannon beams—there’s not enough time to take out all the cannons before they fire.”

“But they’ll burn up,” Lance hears Sam Holt say over the comm system. “They’re only built to withstand momentary blasts, not a continuous beam and certainly not one with that much power.”

Shiro is quiet for a long moment, then says, “Then we’ll have to take out Sendak himself.”

“What?” Lance yells. “Keith, what does he mean?”

“He’s going onto Sendak’s cruiser,” Keith replies, his voice quiet. “Alone.”

“But that’s suicide!” Allura says.

“It’s what he has to do,” Keith responds, but Lance can hear the pain in his voice. “And we have to do what we have to do. Let’s go.”

They push the plates into position as quick as they can while deflecting enemy fire. Red is small, so Lance has to pour all his remaining energy into the task, even when it feels like he has nothing left. And just in time—the cannons fire, their beams connecting and arcing down toward Earth, where the plates are waiting for them.

“They’ll never hold!” Pidge yells.

“We just have to buy Shiro some time!” Keith yells back. “Keep it together!”

Lance pushes. Every limb in his body is on fire. The ringing in his ears has gotten louder until it’s all he can really hear—the others’ voices over the comm sound shaky, disembodied. The bruises over his ribs send sharp, spiking pain throughout his nervous system. He closes his eyes and gives himself over to Red, every last ounce of himself he has, until he feels completely torn apart.

At the exact moment Lance thinks he’s going to pass out, the force of the beam lessens. “It’s Shiro!” Keith yells. “He’s done it! Everyone, take out those cannons!”

And with what little strength Lance has left, he does. Helps Allura take out the nearest cannon, finishes up Hunk’s work on a second. He watches as Keith takes out a third cannon all on his own. His gaze drifts and finds Sendak’s ship; to his horror, he watches as it begins to fall from the sky.

“Keith!” he yells. “The ship! Shiro’s still on there!”

Keith and Allura take out a forth cannon. “Lance, you’re with me!” he says. “The rest of you take out those last two and then join us. We have to stop that ship crashing!”

Lance follows Keith as he flies toward the sinking cruiser. “Is that—Shiro? On the surface?”

Sure enough, Shiro and Sendak are clinging to the outside of the battle cruiser, facing off against one another even as the ship itself plunges to its doom.

“Get underneath!” Keith says. “We have to hold it up!”

They fall through the atmosphere to the blue sky of Earth. Red rams into the base of the ship and Lance activates her thrusters to slow the descent. He sees Keith do the same. Allura, Hunk, and Pidge hurry towards them; Hunk activates his super-armour and pushes against the ship with all his strength.

But try as they might, the cruiser is simply too enormous, and all they can do is slow it down enough in the hope that Shiro will survive the inevitable crash. When they land, in a great cloud of dust and debris, Lance can’t see a thing.

“Does anyone have eyes on Shiro?” Keith asks. No one answers. Lance activates his thrusters again to blow away the sand swirling in front of his lion. He sees movement.

“There!” he yells. “Just ahead of my position!”

Lance is the closest, and flies forward—to his horror he sees Shiro down on his knees, Sendak looming over him. He won’t get there in time.

But just before Lance can cry out, from fear or terror or pain, Shiro moves. Through his lion’s sight Lance sees Shiro pull a blaster out from behind his back and jam it right under Sendak’s chin; he looks away before he sees it fire, having had enough of blood to last him a lifetime.

The lions land around Shiro and they all scramble out to join him. He looks terrible—mouth bloody, face streaked with blood and grime. But Sendak’s body lies lifeless at his feet, and above their heads the Atlas destroys the last of the Galran resistance.

“It’s over,” Lance says wonderingly. He tilts his head up towards the sky; the clear blue is cut through with streaks of orange fire and black smoke. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—well, almost. He looks at Keith, who is already looking back at him. Lance feels like the tide has finally pulled out over their heads; has left them lying here, glistening on the sand, like the whelks and cowries and scallops of Lance’s childhood, waiting to be found and exclaimed over, to be washed and polished and set aside, to be made into something new.

*

Keith finds him on the roof, staring out into the stars that are visible once again without the particle barrier to hide them.

“Going back out there will feel so strange,” he says. Lance laughs quietly.

“Tell me about it. I won’t be able to fly Red ever again without Veronica’s voice in my ear, telling me _the proper way to control my steering_.”

“I’m pretty sure you know more about flying than she does,” Keith says, and Lance laughs again.

“Don’t tell her that. She’ll tell our mama, and then Mama will tell me off, and it’ll be no fun for anybody.”

“It’d be fun for me,” Keith grins. Lance rolls his eyes at him.

“Have I told you recently how much I hate you?”

“Only twice a day.”

“Hmm.” Lance turns to face him, takes a step in so their faces are only inches apart. “Sounds like I need to step up my game.”

“If you want to catch up to me, then yeah,” Keith says, reaching out to take Lance’s hand and wind their fingers together like blades of grass. “I’d say you have your work cut out for you.”

“Sounds difficult,” Lance agrees. “And time-consuming. I might not have time for my boyfriend anymore if I’m working that hard.”

Keith hums. Tugs Lance in even closer, lifts his free hand to brush away a lock of hair from Lance’s forehead. “I suppose I can let you slack off,” he says. “It just wouldn’t do to have no time for your boyfriend.”

“Mm, a true tragedy.” Finally, teasingly, Keith leans in to kiss Lance. It lasts a long, long time—long enough for the air to grow cold around them with the approaching sunset. Lance rests his forehead against Keith’s and smiles. “Weren’t you supposed to be meeting with Iverson this afternoon?”

“Maybe,” Keith replies.

“Found something better to do, did you?” Lance teases.

Keith grins. “Much,” he says. They shift so Lance is tucked up in Keith’s arms, hunched over so he can rest his head against Keith’s chest and listen to his heartbeat, beating sure and slow. Keith runs a hand through Lance’s hair, tracing a shaky curve around the shell of Lance’s left ear. The doctors examined it the day after their fight with Sendak—he’ll never hear from that side again. Lance lifts his hand and places it over Keith’s, the movement saying _it’s okay_ to Keith’s unsaid _I’m sorry_.

“I guess we should lay low for a little while, then,” Lance says, leaning back so he can meet Keith’s eyes. “With Iverson being on the warpath and all.”

“We could do that,” Keith agrees. “Or we could take out Shiro’s old hoverbike whose keys I just stole.”

Lance’s mouth falls open. “You didn’t.” Keith digs into his pocket and pulls out a shining set of keys. Lance smiles and kisses him. “Once a hot-headed red paladin, always a hot-headed red paladin.”

“You would know.”

“Mm.” Lance hums and kisses Keith again. “Come on. Before it gets dark—I wanna see the sunset.”

They steal down to the hangar where Shiro’s hoverbike is waiting for them, polished and full of fuel. Lance feels his heart do a backflip in his chest. “You planned this, didn’t you?” he asks Keith, who says nothing but whose ears have gone bright red at the tips. “Is this a _date_?”

“You tell me,” Keith retorts, climbing on the bike and waiting for Lance to hop on behind him before turning the keys. The engine roars to life. “Hold on,” he says, his voice soft. Lance wraps his arms around Keith’s waist, turning his head to rest his deaf ear beside Keith’s spine. They fly off, skimming across the desert sand at a speed so comparably slow to what Red can get up to but somehow still exhilarating. Keith drives them towards the setting sun, takes them to an outcrop where the desert is spread out like a beige and brown patchwork quilt beneath their feet. He switches off the engine and they watch the sunset in silence.

Lance’s eyes skim across the horizon. He knows that out there, further than the eye can see, are the crystal blue waters of the ocean. Keith’s never seen the sea—Lance would like to take him there, one day. When all this is over for good. They could even take Shiro’s bike—could hop on it with a travel bag each after goodbye hugs all round, Lance behind Keith and holding onto him like always, as they drove off into the distance and past this outcrop, and kept going until they reached the waves—kept going on and on until they reached the future, bright blue and sure as a promise.

*

 _Not often,_  
_but now and again there’s a moment_  
_when the heart cries aloud:_  
_yes, I am willing to be_  
_that wild darkness,_  
_that long, blue body of light._

*

**Author's Note:**

> things i changed:
> 
> \- keith and acxa are siblings  
> \- keith isn't a dick to lance  
> \- adam survives and is living his best gay life  
> \- lance gets the family storyline that was handed off to hunk, whomst i love dearly, but which lance so obviously deserved wtff  
> \- shiro kills sendak because he fucking deserved to  
> \- that weird altean robot thing at the end doesn't exist because it was dumb  
> \- probably more i've forgotten but eh  
> \- edit: just remembered that i completely erased the journey within episode because it was stupid as fuuuuck. like. shit. i can write better character development than that lauren
> 
> the permanent character injury is lance. he loses his hearing in his left ear


End file.
